


Close my eyes, count to three, wish that you were here with me

by random_firework



Series: 12 Days of Wincestmas 2015 [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressed Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Series, Stanford Era, Suicidal Thoughts, Teen Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_firework/pseuds/random_firework
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Sam makes a phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close my eyes, count to three, wish that you were here with me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 9th day of Wincestmas on Tumblr.  
> The title comes from the song Mittens by Carly Rae Jepsen.  
> It can be seen as Wincest but also as a Sam and Dean fan fiction. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, every mistake is mine. Don't hesitate to let me know if you find a typo or two.
> 
> Comments and constructive reviews are very much appreciated. You don't have to, obviously, but that would be great !

Sam was curled up in his bed the evening of the 24th. Brady had invited him to a party for the students who couldn’t be with their family that night but he didn’t have the heart to be around other people, smiling and laughing and making it look like everything was okay. What was the point of Christmas without the smell of schnapps and leather jackets anyway ? 

Sam looked at his phone on the nightstand. God knows he missed his “home” but he wasn’t going to make the first step. They would probably hang up on him right after he said hello, anyway. He teared up when he thought about how everything had fucked up. It didn’t go as he had planned at all. He had thought he would be able to join them whenever he wanted, at least Dean. To spend the holidays with them, help them with some hunts. But his dad had said “Don’t come back” and Dean…

He opened the window to occupy his hands and his thoughts. He couldn’t think about Dean without crying and he wasn’t going to cry on Christmas Eve, goddamnit. He stayed there for at least half an hour, watching the snow fall. He shivered under his thin T-shirt, but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything else. These moments where he just wanted to die took him by surprise, whenever something made him think of his Dad, his brother, hunting, motels or whatever. Tonight, it was Christmas. It’s not like the Winchesters celebrated the thing, but still. Christmas Eve was supposed to be Dad falling asleep early after dinner, and him and Dean watching TV until he would fall asleep too, only to be wake up by Dean leading him to bed. It wasn’t supposed to be wanting to stay in the freezing air until death. 

Sam shook his head at the thought. He wasn’t all right at all. He was trying to be brave and content every day, because the life he had been dreaming of was finally here – friends he could get to know for more than three months, no one to boss him around – but truth is, most of the time, all he wanted to do was to call his Dad and beg him to let him come back. Only he was too proud. 

He wouldn’t last long like this. So Sam did the thing he always did when he felt like he was drowning. He reached out to his brother.

 

Sam promised himself that he would hang up if Dean hadn’t answered before the fourth ring. Otherwise he wouldn’t resist the temptation to leave him a message on his voice mail and that would be ugly. 

He bit his lips when he pressed the “Call” button. His breathing stopped, his whole body became numb and for a brief moment he thought that he was going to pass out. But it was too late to back out now.

First ring.

Second ring.

Third ring.

Sam breathed again, both relieved and disappointed. He was about to end the call when he heard a voice so low he could have imagined it.

“Sammy ?”

“Dean.”

“Are you okay ? Are you hurt ?”

He could hear the concern in his brother’s voice.

“No I’m – I’m just…” His voice broke. Tears were running down his face and he couldn’t help it, but he was smiling too. Because Dean was here, like he had been all his life. He cleared his throat and pulled himself together. But all he was capable of doing was grinning stupidly.

“Sam ?” Dean asked at the other end of the line.

“I’m very happy to hear your voice, Dean.” 

“Yeah, me too, baby boy,” Dean let out in a sigh.

Sam’s heart skipped a beat. Except on a few, very rare, occasions, Dean never called him like that. And he would never admit that he was happy to hear Sam. 

“Dean, are you drunk ?”

“No,” he answered. Then he added: “Well, not yet. Why do you call ?”

“Christmas pretty much sucks around here,” Sam explained, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Bet it does,” Dean mumbled, making Sam laugh.

He had missed laughing because of Dean. He let himself relax and sit back on his bed. If he closed his eyes and concentrated a bit, he could almost feel like he was lying on a worn out motel couch, Dean by his side.

“What are you doing ?”

“Drinking,” Dean answered simply, like it was an evidence. 

“Is…” Sam hesitated. “Is Dad here ?”

Dean sneered.

“Nope.”

“Where is he ?”

“Don’t know, didn’t ask. Probably in a bar.”

Sam shifted, uncomfortable. Something was definitely off. Dean tried to reassure him before he had the time to express his concern.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot, Sam. We’re okay. We just talk less and drink more, that’s all.” 

Sam felt his insides twist. Instantly, he was brought back to that crucial moment: Dean, tears in his eyes, begging him not to go, promising him that he would do anything to make him stay. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry, if I could I...”

“Don’t,” his brother interrupted him. “Sammy, you made your choice. And I’m not saying it doesn’t tear me apart, but I’m not angry with you. I just want you to be happy. So you keep doing what you do, ‘kay ? Keep making me proud.”

Sam took a breath, feeling like life was coming back inside of him. He nodded and said:

“I will, Dean.” 

“Good. Now enough with the chick flick, tell me about your school.”

“You sure ?” asked Sam, surprised. 

“’Course.” 

So Sam told him. About his classes and his teachers mostly, not spending much time on his friends. It felt like he was 6 again and telling Dean about his day at school. He smiled softly at this thought. 

After that, they stayed silent for a few minutes. Sam, lulled by Dean’s familiar breathing, closed his eyes. When he opened them and saw that 10 minutes had passed, he looked at his phone, panicked. No, no, no ! Why did he have to fuck things up every time ?

“Sam ?”

He exhaled, relieved.

“Yeah, sorry, I fell asleep.”

“Figured.” 

Sam’s heart jumped in his chest at the thought of his brother letting him fall asleep and staying awake, watching over him, like he always did. 

“Sam, I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah ?”

“D’you think I could… Come around sometime ? Y’know, just to say hello.” Dean asked, voice shaking slightly. 

“Sure, Dean, anytime.”

They made it look like it was no big deal but Sam knew it meant so much more. It meant he was getting his brother back, slowly, piece by piece. And one day, they would be whole again.

He looked at the clock on the desk. 00:01.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas, baby boy,” his brother murmured back. “Go to sleep now, I’ll wait until you snore to hang up.”

“I don’t snore !”

“Yeah and how would you know that ?”

“I hate you,” Sam retorted before turning off the light and slipping under the sheets. 

“I know you do. Sleep tight, Sammy.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Sam put his phone next to his pillow and smiled in the dark. Everything would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading !


End file.
